


Longing...

by sightsoblind



Series: Finished Works [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Hand & Finger Kink, Masturbation, Professors, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightsoblind/pseuds/sightsoblind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To create art is to take the human condition and hold a mirror up. Within that reflection you show the viewer a piece of themselves. She fell in love with his art, and through that with him.</p><p>She fell in love with him the first time she met him. But he was her professor. She dismissed it as all in her head. How could someone so filled with beauty and art ever look at her twice.</p><p>She was a student. He couldn't be attracted to her. Well more accurately it was simply an insanely bad idea. Beside that she was so insanely smart and beautiful how could she ever feel anything for him.  </p><p>OR Kate falls in love with her professor and he in love with her. It's a terrible idea and they spend years denying it and simply circling.<br/>Do not expect a quick resolution where she graduates and runs right back into his arms. This is much closer to real life. You move on, life keeps going, sometimes you never do say anything. You never forget your first love.</p><p>This is the expansion of a fantasy I wrote for someone. I had to do it. Literally I kept trying to work on one of my active works and this wouldn't go the fuck away.</p><p>REPOST! Minor edits only!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> He was never mine. Not in any real sense. That didn't stop me from wanting him so badly it hurt.

Kate had taken his class on a whim first semester, just something to fill out her schedule. She needed an academic course and an art requirement. It filled both and it fit neatly into her free hours. Between her job and the hectic requirements of her scholarship it fit perfectly. At least that was how it had started.

That changed when he walked into the class. Broad shoulders slid out of his jacket as he dropped it onto the back of his chair. Then he smiled at her. She knew it was a bad idea from the first moment he had walked in. She'd been telling herself over and over she was being ridiculous. He smiled softly at her. “I love my early arrivals. Would you do me a favor and put these on the desks?” He held out a stack of syllabuses. She took them and when their fingers brushed her breath caught. He smelled like old books and clay. Their fingers brushed as the papers were handed over and her eyes were drawn to his hands. Warm thick fingers that sent an electric shock up her arm with only the barest touch. She bit her lip against the image of them that flooded unbidden to her mind of them slipping past her lips as she sucked them deep into her mouth.

“Yes Professor! Glad to help.” She spun away quickly and busied herself with putting one on each desk taking the time to line them up to the edge of each desk needing a few moments where she would have to look anywhere but at him. Those warm eyes drawing her in. Please God just let me make it through this class. I can't afford to fail anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Fredrick liked to be early for the first class. It helped to get an idea of what his students were going to be like and the way they entered class said a lot about that. It had been years since anyone had beaten him in on the first day of a semester but there she was tucked into a desk in the front of the room bent over a series of equations. Professor Burns had never failed to suss out his problem students within the first week with this method. He assigned an impossible task of completing a theoretical equation he'd been working for years. If they could finish before mid terms They were given an automatic A and allowed to skip the test. She looked up as soon as he came in and tucked the work away. At least she intended to give his own class just as much attention even if it was a softer discipline than math. The Arts were just as serious.

He spoke honestly. He really did love the early arrivals. They could usually be pressed upon to help set things up and he could get a moment to get a feeling of what each class actually thought of the material and if they were keeping up and comprehending. She agreed to help lay out the syllabuses and when her lower lip caught between her teeth his eyes darted down. He had seen his fair share of students try and leverage him into a position he could be blackmailed into a better grade. Just because he knew what she was doing didn't mean it didn't effect him.

She spun away quickly and diligently lay the papers out before returning to her seat and resuming her mathmaticals until the start of class.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out she didn't need to worry about her grades. It was impossible for her to shake a single word that fell from his lips. They sunk into her skin until they became a part of her and the images and examples were painted on the backs of her eyelids. He spoke of artists with a passion that made her love them too. She would find herself lingering after class offering to help him return his papers and prints back.

She had a thirty minute break between the classes. It wasn't enough time to get anything done. Her dorm was all the way across campus she couldn't possibly even make it there in time to drop off her books. It wasn't long before she was finding herself in his office before class too. Soon they struck up a sort of friendship. She told him about her struggles with putting herself through college. Her job and the assorted scholarships. She was the first member of her family to go. This was so important to her. They discussed the classics. Little known great artists. Modern painters and sculptors. They laughed together over the absurdity of 'interpretive dance' and he brought old dusty long dead works to life. Tales of their painters and their struggles she began to see history through a new lens. Not that of scholars and academics but of the tortured and abused. Those who had little more than a skill that was sometimes completely ignored and only existed through a pressing passion of the artist. Those who were pushed to produce more and more until they grew to hate their patrons and would take vengeance within their arts. He opened the world to her through new eyes. Rather than familiarity erasing the immediate carnal attraction, it had only deepened it now it was tempered with regard. She fell in love with his mind and his ideas. She knew she shouldn't be harboring such thoughts but she couldn't help it.

 

* * *

 

 

His immediate dismissal of her had been unfair he decided when she turned over her first assignment. It was easily one of most comprehensive essays on the Renaissance period he'd ever read. She was attentive in class and provided deep insights into the material. Every now and again he would turn to find her staring before she would look away quickly. A blush would spread down her cheeks spreading desperately down her throat and he couldn't help but wonder how deep past her plunging necklines it would go. Would it kiss the top of her nipples that he could see pebbled and pressed to too tight shirts. Her manner of dress had always been provocative. Too tight pants, too short skirts, tops that would dust just over her navel and pull across her breasts. More than once he had to tear eyes up back to her face as she would reach up to answer a question, the fabric would pull across her with the movement and he was only human after all.

For all these tiny things she was one of the best in his class. She was always ready to lend a helping hand. He moved between three different classrooms across the week but every Tuesday and Thursday he could be guaranteed that Kate would be there outside his office ready to help him move the visual materials back and forth. She was dedicated to her studies and committed to her education. She was sharp and funny and sweet. She worked outside of school trying to support herself as her parents could barely get by on their own and she was doing everything she could to graduate with as little debt as possible.

He respected her. It was a startling thought the first time it occurred. Despite all her outward appearances she really truly wanted to be here and truly wanted to learn.

He'd only stepped out of the office for a few minutes from grading the midterms when he ran into Professor Burns whose usual chipper demeanor was replaced with a scowl. “Matthew? Everything alright?”

Professor Burns just scowled harder. “Some junior finally went and did it. She finished it. Granted it's huge for me professionally but I'm out a way to test whose going to try and weasel out of every little thing.”

Fredrick stopped in the pouring of his coffee. Burns had been using that test all the way when he himself had gone to college here. “Your kidding me. You've been handing that thing out for thirty years!”

“And this Culver girl went and solved it. I've checked, it even handed it around the department. It's perfect and I'm screwed.” Fredrick nodded dumbly and went back to his paper grading. His estimation of Kate just jumped. She was brilliant, and beautiful both inside and out.

She was back outside his office the following Tuesday. “I hear you killed the Burns Equation. Don't worry no matter how much he grumps he's secretly thrilled.”

She lit up under the praise and it made his heart flip in his chest. Then again she always did, maybe that's why he went out of his way to congratulate her. “Thank you Sir. I took the midterm anyway just in case I had made an error.”

“Well how did you do?” He was more than passingly curious. He had come to be invested in her success over the last few weeks.

“Uh Ninety four. They marked me down because they couldn't read the work on a few of the problems. It's still an A and my GPA doesn't care if it's a plus or not.” She blushed again and he nudged her with an elbow.

“You should still be proud. I got you something to commemorate.” He handed her the small package and would forever swear he imagined the hitch in her breath when their hands brushed. He most certainly didn't imagine his pants getting just fractionally tighter.

 

* * *

 

 

She stared at the little drawing. A math dragon lay slain beneath her sword. She had loved it from the moment she had seen it. But as the day wore on her mind went to the small signature in the bottom corner. He'd drawn it himself. All night long her mind had wandered back to the drawing. By the time her night ended and she was a few drinks deep and her thoughts had wandered beyond the sentiment. There wasn't any denying the skill behind the pencil that had captured her in such beautiful details. She was beautiful in his rendering. Her thoughts slowly wandered to his hands. Strong and firm had they brushed those smudged lines. Had they pushed the graphite that shaded her lips into place.

Her own fingers traced her imaginings. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the page. Had their grip on the pencil been firm when it pushed over the curve of her breasts. Needy wanton fingers wandered lower pulling her nipples to small peaks. She thought of his hands as they moved in lecture. How they curved around his pencil as he wrote. The way he'd stroke them running the strong fingers of one hand over the opposite set as he lay deep in thought. She began to imagine his hands sliding warm over her. His hands on her breasts over her ribs dipping under her skirt pushing aside her panties that had grown soaking wet thinking of him. She imagined the rough timber of his voice whispered against her ear as fingers parted her folds and delved inside. Oh it didn't take much at all and she was coming undone.

Carefully she put the drawing on her nightstand. She knew she was wrong for thinking of him like that. But what harm did it do in fantasy?

 

* * *

 

 

He would never admit the number of drawings of her he had. His artists eye could not have stopped the appreciation of the sweep of her lashes or the curve of her lips. He had drawn hundreds of them before feeding them to the flames. God she was his student! He wished attraction was one of those things you could just turn off. He was so wrong for the thoughts that ran through his head. He was two years out from tenure and even then an affair with a student was morally wrong. It didn't stop the images that crept unbidden into his mind. The curve of her neck beneath his lips. The swell of her breasts in his hands. The softness of her ass as she would push back into him. He angrily twisted the knob on his shower from cold to hot. It wouldn't be chased so easily away tonight. He took the problem fully in hand and stroked over his length giving into the fantasies that were never far from thought. In these moments. He pushed again and again into his own hand the echo of her laughter dancing over his ears. He could smell the gentle scent of the perfume she wore and could almost feel her smaller delicate hands beneath his own

“Oh god Kate.” Her name on his lips had him cumming harder than he had in years.

 

* * *

 

 

She was there bright and early on Thursday. Act normal she told herself like a mantra as the door to his office opened and he smiled at her. He handed her a few rolled prints and when she pulled them in it brought his hand with it. The back brushing ever so gently over the swell of her breast just over the top of her tank top. She nearly dropped everything and he reached out to steady her. She was immediately and intimately aware of the warmth of him pressed to her side one hand splayed across her back the other holding onto the rolled prints.

She would have liked to say that day changed something. That she pulled back from him or found some way to keep her distance. She should have. It would have been a better idea. Instead she signed up for another class he taught for the next semester. It wouldn't give her anything toward her degree. She was going to have to pick up an extra shift just to end up paying for it. But god it was worth it. She was alive every time she was near him.

 

* * *

 

 

He was surprised to find her in the roster of one of his more advanced classes but he wasn't upset by it. She was an amazing student her thirst for the material spoke of a passion not often seen outside of Artistic majors. She no longer had time before and after his class to tarry or linger but she would always arrive at his office hours. She brought coffee or sometimes dinner. She scolded him for eating like a bachelor and he would never admit he only did it because he enjoyed the fuss she made about it. They discussed art and politics. The meetings were always friendly and light but every time he put pencil to paper her form would unfold beneath his fingers.

He remained professional in public. In private it was a different story. There could be no harm in fantasy so long as it stayed there. He dreamed of her in those stolen secret moments. There was too much between them for it to ever be anything else besides he was easily fifteen years older than she was. He was sure he imagined the whole thing but good lord it was such a heady fantasy.

 

* * *

 

 

She wasn't lacking for invitations and it wasn't that she wasn't interested in dating. She needed more than a pretty face and a willingness to please. She needed a mind that would fascinate and entice. She needed to be challenged mentally. She told the same joke on every first date. “How many modern artists does it take to change a light bulb?” If they didn't get it the date was over. If the managed to laugh but still changed the subject there wasn't a second date. She just wanted something a little more than hot sweaty drunken sex in the back of a bar. She'd had a taste of something more and her fantasies were more satisfying then the disappointment of vapid hard bodies.

It was two weeks to the end of the semester and she still hadn't found a summer apartment. She couldn't afford to lose the job she needed it in the fall but she was told if she left for the summer he would have to replace her with a local. She was pouring over posts on the bulletin board when she saw it. SUMMER INTERNSHIP! Summer interns could stay on campus rent free. It was part of the deal. It was also how they managed to pay you two dollars an hour. They made it up in room and two meals a day. She rushed off to the office and filled out the paperwork as fast as she could.

 

* * *

 

 

He was just heading out for the night. He'd stayed an hour later as it was usually a day Kate would swing through his office and he had just heard one of the best jokes he wanted to tell her. He knew she would appreciate it. It felt odd to miss her. The semester ended in two weeks and she'd be gone back to that little Tennessee town she came from. She spoke fondly of it and recently had begun to speak wistfully of Charlie and wanting to see him again. It was best if he put his little fascination to bed. Besides he had papers to file with the Deans office.

The key was in the lock when he heard slamming footsteps running down the hall. She was wearing one of those impossibly tight skirts and insanely high heals running all out anyway. “PROFESSOR PLEASE WAIT!” He wanted to shout a warning but it was a moment too late she hit the wet floor and her feet went out from under her. He dropped his bag and ran over. The heel of her shoe had snapped off and when she went to put her foot down she winced.

Hands under her arms he helped her back into his office. “What's going on? Your final paper isn't due till the end of term?”

 

* * *

 

 

His fingers roamed up her ankle checking for a break. It was innocent and she knew he was only trying to see how bad the damage was. Her body didn't care. The feel of his touch shot tingles all the way up to the juncture between her thighs. “I uh, I was told I needed to make sure you got my application before the day was out. I'm so sorry it's so late you know I don't usually push things to the last minute but I just found out about the internship and I really need this.” Pretty soon the whole story came pouring out. She needed to stay for the summer to keep her job and they only told her last week. But all the off campus housing had been booked up months ago. She needed this job or she wouldn't be able to afford to finish her degree and would he please just consider looking at it.” He took her hand softly smiling and she stopped her frantic tirade as she tried to remember how to form words against the gentle pressure of his hand over hers. Her tongue darted out wetting lips suddenly aware of how close he was. He still smelled like clay and old books. Now there was more under it she could pick out from the year of association. His breath smelled like coffee and the musk of his cologne fading at the end of a long day. Under it was a smell that was so uniquely him she knew she'd never forget it.

“Kate you're one of my best students. If you want the internship it's yours. Besides I hadn't really made my decision yet anyway. I would love to have you in the gallery over the summer. It's always nice to have people there that actually care about the art. You don't ruin priceless pieces by confusing a Louis XVI for a regular table and eating lunch at it leaving sweat rings from your Gatorade and breaking a two hundred year old chair that belonged to Benjamin Franklin.” Weeks of stress disappeared.

“Oh god, did someone really! No, I don't want to know. Oh hey I've got a joke for you by the way!”

“Oh yeah me too you go first.”

“ **How many modern artists does it take to change a light bulb?** Four. One to throw bulbs against the wall, one to pile hundreds of them in a heap and spray-paint it orange, one to glue light bulbs to a cocker spaniel, and one to put a bulb in the socket and fill the room with light while all the critics and buyers are watching the fellow smashing the bulbs against the wall, the fellow with the spray-gun, and the cocker spaniel.”

He laughed long and hard and the sound washed over her like warm velvet. As it turned out she was not the only person who thought it was funny.

“OK my turn. **How many visitors to an art gallery does it take to change a light bulb?** Two. One to do it and one to say, Huh! My four-year old could've done that!”

Something happened in that moment as he sat crouched beside her one hand gently cradling her sprained ankle the other holding her hand. It felt like something in her chest had sprung a slow leak. Warmth spread through her chest and the air suddenly felt charged and heavy. She wanted to lean across the small space and discover if his lips were as soft as they promised. To see if his hands would hold her with the same tender revere she had seen him grip brushes and pencils. Would he knead her flesh as she had seen clay take shape between his fingers.

“Thank you Sir. I really look forward to working with you this summer.”

His thumb moved in small circles over her ankle and she could feel her self clench beneath her skirts the small hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

“I look forward to having you.” She would forever swear she had imagined his leaning toward her just before the door opened.

“Professor! I was hoping I could talk to you about extra credit?” She wanted to murder that freshman with the force of her thoughts as he lowered her leg to the ground.

“You should get some ice on that Kate. If you're careful with it you should be fine in a day or two. And I believe I told you last time Mister Travers. I handed out all the acceptable extra credit projects with your syllabus on the first day of class. Pick one of those.”

 

* * *

 

 

Fredrick dropped Peter Donovan's application back into his desk. He had been a politic choice. His parents were huge donors to the gallery. Kate needed the position and had earned it fairly even if her application was late. He meant ever word he told her. The added benefit of having her around five days a week six hours a day as they rotated the collection was only an added benefit. She only had a year left before she graduated. Then she'd be gone off to her real adult life and he'd finally get the fascination that had held him in it's grip the last year out of his head.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end he had two interns. Peter Donovan's parents made a large enough donation that the school authorized him to expand his budget for the rotation. Apparently not having the little prick in the house for the summer was worth half a million dollars to his parents. Two weeks in he was sure he would have paid just as much to get rid of him. Kate came rushing into the back room pushing past him to hide behind a stack of paintings.

“Kate, everything...” It didn't take but a moment longer before he realized what was going on.

“Katy, babe? I was wondering... Hi Professor, did Kate just come in here? I thought I saw her.” Fredrick watched as she shook her head from behind her hiding place.

“Sorry Mister Donovan, I haven't seen her. I think she went down into the basement to try and locate a piece for Dean Canter's office. Why don't you try down there?” He watched as the spoiled over entitled little brat ran off. It wasn't like he was doing any work anyway.

“Thank you so much. Oh my god I am so tired of him hitting on me. I just wanted five minutes without him. She scooted out and the over sized shirt she was wearing caught on one of the slats of the crate she hid behind. He watched her struggle for a moment before he reached over across her and unhooked it.

Fredrick became suddenly aware of how close they stood. Every inch of Kate's front brushed against his own he could feel her breath ghosting warm and moist over his neck from where her head had turned up toward him. It was odd still seeing her in flats but it tucked her smaller frame gently into him in this moment and he couldn't help but pause for a moment. She wasn't trying to move either and his thoughts were drawn back to the moment they had shared in his office a month back. He had nearly kissed her there. The magnetic pull was still there but in the month since he had the time to remind himself all the reasons it was a terrible idea. Nothing had changed in that month. There was one thing he could do.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why don't you take my car and go pick up some lunch for everyone. I think we're all tired of the cafeteria sandwiches.” He fished the keys from his pocket and pressed them into her hand with his credit card. She took the keys but couldn't help the way her heart still beat out of turn.

She wasn't sure where she found the words to agree and stole a moment to press against him as she brushed past him. Ten minutes later she was sitting outside the restaurant. Her whole body was still thrumming from the feel of his nearness. It would still be another twenty minutes before the order would be ready. The whole car smelled like him, her forbidden fantasies were rushing unbidden to her mind and after the press of his body against hers in the back room she couldn't stop thinking about it. His empty coffee mug sat in the center console an old film camera on the dash. Little private pieces of him. She spent less than thirty seconds trying to talk herself out of the sudden desire that had struck her. Questing fingers slid beneath the band of her jeans and parted her folds. The smell of him filled the car and after a moment she pulled over his old coat that lay in the passenger seat. It was warm from sitting in the sun and the weight of it over her let her close her eyes and pretend for a moment it was her beloved professor instead. Plunging fingers into her core she quickly found the constriction of her jeans frustrating. Off they went without a second thought. She was parked on a sleepy side street anyway. Before long she was arching off the seat. She glanced around quickly to make sure no one had seen her before quickly pulling her jeans back on. Her panties were soaked and she hastily shoved them in her pocket. Into the restaurant she went quickly washing her hands before picking up the lunch and heading back to finish the day.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn't want to be pleased that she hated the self entitled little shit as much as he did. He was simply glad someone else was there to bring him back to his senses when his mind would wander places it should not go in the quiet stacks of the college's collection. He slid into his car at the end of a long day and reached for the seat handle to adjust the seat back for his larger frame. His hand caught on something tucked there beside the seat and when he pulled it out he was instantly hard and straining. He would have liked to say he had no idea whose panties those could possibly be or how they could have gotten there. But the smell of cum was heavy in his car and he had seen that scrap of pink lace riding up over the back of Kate's jeans just that morning. He swallowed thickly. Had she been touching herself here? Right in this seat while she ran to get lunch. He thought she had delayed trying to avoid Peter but it explained so much more. The smile plastered over her features that still hadn't faded at the end of the day. The flush of her cheeks and the way she had eaten like she'd been starving.

In seconds his dick was out and in his hand the scrap of cloth wrapped around his fist as he pumped frantically anything to stop the ache the discovery had instilled. He knew he was wrong for wanting her. He knew he could never truly have her. It didn't make it any easier to try and forget.

In the end he was left panting the blood roaring in his ears loud enough to be deafening as he waited for his body to calm in wake of his release. He threw the car in drive and went home. A quick shower and then right to bed. He didn't even pick up his pencils. He knew she would be the only thing he could draw tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

He offered her his car every day from that point out to go get lunch. Every day that week the same thing happened. She would call it in as soon as she left campus to give her a few minutes. She would stop somewhere secluded along the way and bring herself to heights of pleasure she hadn't known were possible before knowing him. She started to bring old lectures she had recorded. His discussion of Ruben capturing the essence of beauty in his day, full figured nude women. The way he spoke about the statue of David holding it in a reverent light that was almost erotic in his appreciation of the form. The words that had opened within her a love of art she had never had before. The timber of his voice.

 

* * *

 

 

Every evening when he slid into his car he could smell her known what she had done. Her perfume clung to his coat and it was the only reason he kept 'forgetting' to bring it into the house. Likewise every evening he fetched her panties back up from under his seat and stroked himself to completion. He began to paint again. It had been years since he had done anything for his own pleasure. He painted to cleanse her from his thoughts. To purge the image of her from the back of his eyelids. The slope of her neck, the curve of her wrist. The gentle way her lashes rested against her cheek bones. Never enough of her to be identifiable Just parts and pieces. She had someone waiting at home. He was her professor. She could never truly want a man like him. He repeated it like a mantra.

 

* * *

 

 

The summer wore on and she found excuses to touch him. To lay a hand on his back and feel the way his muscles played. Any excuse to press behind him in tight spaces. To inhale the scent of him. To hand him things and let her fingers linger against his. She engaged him in conversations as he stimulated every inch of her. Her mind came alive in their talks her body hummed under the gentle brush of his arm against her own as they sat and ate. She was alive, just existing beside him in awe of everything he was.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the last week of summer. Two days left on her internship before it was over and done. Her senior year was full and she already knew there would be no time for the long talks they shared. Perhaps it made her bold. Perhaps it just made her stupid. She picked up the camera that had never moved from his dash. She arranged herself very carefully and snapped off a shot down her shirt.

 

* * *

 

 

He hadn't seen Kate in months. He could still pick her brisk walk out among the throngs as she walked quickly across campus. His fascination should have faded. But every night he still painted her. He needed to get out to replace the images of her in his head with something, anything else. They were a week from graduation and he needed to do something anything before it drove him completely mad.

That very night he stood outside the strip club. There was only one in town and he prayed to any god that was listening that none of his students would be on stage. He opened his car door and was half out when he froze. Kate was getting out of a cab and walking toward the club. She greeted the bouncer warmly and slid around the back and in the employee entrance. There was a small part of him that screamed he should be getting back in his car, he should drive away. This was everything he didn't need right now. The rest of him punched that voice in the throat and slid in the entrance. He found a seat in the back and waited. Two dancers later he still hadn't seen hide nor hair of her and he was starting to be grateful. Maybe it had just been his overactive imagination.

“Next on the stage we have the star of the Cat's Cradle, Our own very Pretty Kitty. Big round of applause.” His heart leapt into his throat and he was half out of his chair ready to haul her out before he realized the dancer on the stage wasn't Kate. She had the same long brown hair but there the resemblance ended. He thanked all that was holy that he had simply been mistaken. He tried to lean back and and enjoy the show. Trying to find anything to replace the girl in his mind.

“Smashing the bulbs against the wall, the fellow with the spray-gun, and the cocker spaniel.” His head snapped in the direction of the words. There behind the bar back in her too tight skirt and high heals her shirt tied just under the swell of her breasts Kate poured drinks telling that same old art joke. The guy she told it to just nodded.

“So what time do you get out anyway?” He reached out and brushed a hand up her arm. Fredrick had the urge to snap it off and shove it up his ass.

He didn't get the chance. Kate threw his drink back into his face. “We've got a toucher Gus!” The over large bouncer had the guy out on his ass in a second. Fredrick smiled down into his drink and went back to watching the show. Despite the bodies on display every time he closed his eyes he still saw the curve of a slender ankle in his palm and could feel the press of her soft against him in dark dusty corners.

An hour later someone slid into his booth. He turned to refuse the latest offer of a lap dance but the words died on his lips as he saw Kate shifting into the seat beside him.

“Hey how many modern artists does it take to change a light bulb?” She smiled with good humor but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Four.” It came out husky around the lump in his throat.

“Damn already heard that one huh? What you doin here professor? Trying to count how many dropouts you see on stage?”

He laughed. “Something like that. So this is where you work? Doesn't Charlie have something to say about that?”

She didn't even try to hide her wince and he immediately wanted to take it back. “No, kinda hard to be judgey when your a horse. Even harder since they put him down this morning.”

“Oh Kate, I'm so sorry. The way you talked about him I just assumed he was a person. I know how much he meant to you.”

“Yeah, He was twenty three. That's pretty old for a horse and he got a really bad lung infection. It's one of those things you know is coming but it doesn't stop it from hurting. Thank you.” She leaned softly into his side and he couldn't help but put a comforting arm around her. There was no tension in the touch. She was far from home and someone she had cared about had just died.

“For what? I haven't really seen you all year.”

“For meaning that. For honestly being sorry and not thinking I'm silly getting all torn up about a horse.” She was fighting back tears now.

He hugged her close. “Gus isn't gonna throw me out for touching is he?”

Kate laughed softly. “No, There's enough girls here that take a little touching for a few more tips. He doesn't get involved until we say something.

“Do you need a ride back to campus? I know you don't have your own car.”

“I've got a few more hours on my shift. I was gonna grab a cab back.”

He caught her eye and knew the old electricity was still there. It came back as if it had only been days since they had last seen each other and not most of a year. “I'll wait.”

 

* * *

 

 

She'd forgotten what it was like to be around him. Ten minutes into seeing him again and all the numb hollow that had been plaguing her fled. Charlie's death hit her like a ton of bricks. She'd had that fucking horse her whole life. They were only a year apart. As they drove back and the easy banter came back without effort it felt like she was breathing again. She'd spent nine months underwater the whole world muted as she barreled forward with the last of her studies. Now with the finish line in sight and back in Fredrick's company she was alive again.

“You going to be at graduation next week?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” He reached out and grabbed her wrist as she slid out of the car. “Hey Kate.” There was so much that passed in the moment of silence. “Just be safe out there.”

“I will. I promise.”

They lingered like that a moment in the dark of night holding hands. She had forgotten to breathe this last year. She had forgotten how beautiful the world could be if you just slowed down enough to look at it. She would always be grateful for that lesson above all others.

 

* * *

 

 

Kate Culver crossed the stage and took her diploma. She graduated Summa Cum Laude. The day was filled with congratulations and joy. There was one in particular she was looking forward to. She found him leaning up under a tree watching her like she was one of his beloved art pieces. She wasn't aware one's heart could break over the loss of something one never really had.

“Congratulations. I know what it means to you to be graduating and I want you to know you were one of my best students, and one of my favorite friends.”

“Thanks. You know you made me love art the way you do. It was just sort of there before. But the way you see it made me see it differently. Thank you for everything these last two years.” The old camera hung about his neck and the moment she saw it she blushed wondering what he had done with the photo.

“I've got a few shots left on this old roll. Figured I'd finally finish it off and get it developed.” She pulled the camera from his hands and gave it to a passerby.

“Hey take our photo!” She stepped back over and slid an arm around him and he slid one around her. She fit so neatly into his side like she always knew she would and the world was perfect and right for a moment. Then the shutter flashed and her parents were calling her away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to leave them like that. This is my fantasy after all.

He stared at the paintings being loaned to the college. He hadn't seen them in years. He'd given them off to a dealer to be sold some ten years after Kate had graduated. It was time to move on he told himself. He was getting married. In the end it didn't work out. He didn't regret it. Just as he never regretted what he had felt for the girl in the paintings. He stared at them now thirty years after he had first painted them and wondered what had become of her. He stepped down the line. He had been told that a single collector had purchased every one. They also had a standing order to be notified any time the artist put anything else up for sale. Every now and again he would part with a piece. They were all here. Every last bit of his work. Sculptures, photos, paintings, all of it. They hung next to great artists and some incredibly moving pieces by people he had never even heard of.

“Professor? The donor is getting ready to make their speech.” He allowed the young undergrad to guide him back into the main hall. The entire building had been paid for in a single donation. It was built as a memorial to some high priced investment banker he had never met. The politics were left to the younger professors now he just simply enjoyed teaching and creating.

“I was never much one for the arts. My mother was the one with the passion for them. My father fed it because he said she never looked more alive than when she was talking about them. So despite the insistence I give a speech I'm going to turn the floor over to her. She can do this much better than I.” The young man stepped down and when the woman took the podium his breath caught in her throat. He still could pick her walk from a crowd.

“Thank you Freddie. This was the place where I think I truly fell in love the first time. There was this piece. A windmill on a hill. It was painted by a young man who never really went anywhere but I remember sitting in an office just down the hall and staring at it for hours. I had a professor who could go on about it for hours if you let him. But when he talked about it it wasn't just paint on canvas any more. It came alive. I remember dreaming of finding that hill and seeing that old windmill. Feeling the sun that shone so brightly in that painting and the pull of the breeze that rustled the leaves of those trees. I learned to love art because one man took the time to share that love with me. I think I might have fallen a little in love with him too.” Her eyes caught his across the room and he was sure that all the air had been sucked out. Thirty years. How were her eyes still so alive after all that time. How had he not imagined them to be something more than the reality. Her photo still sat on his desk, a snap shot of her breasts tucked carefully into the frame behind it. Her words felt like they were just for him as her gaze never moved.

“He taught me to love life. He taught me to breathe deeply of the beauty in every inch of the world. I fell in love a thousand times during those years. With paintings and sculptures. I fell in love with drawings and sketches and photos. I have no skill or artists eye. I just know what I like. I've often been told that my collection is eclectic. I have long come to accept this is art snob for a lot of useless trash with a few gems. But here is the truth of it. Art is not something outside of us. It is something within us. Art is the beauty within ourselves that someone else holds a mirror to. It takes a beautiful person inside to see that beauty in the world and reflect it back for the rest of us. My collection will remain on loan for the rest of my natural life. I would like now to announce my intention to donate the entirety to the school upon my death on the condition it never be sold. It was born here. It should live here. Now I know there's been a lot of buzz about my great mystery piece. The thing I insist must always hang.” She waved one hand and the boy pulled the cloth back from a small easel.

“It doesn't have a proper name but I like to call it Faith and the Dragon. It was the first piece of art I had ever acquired. It was the first time I fell in love. The years have taught me that love is a thing that doesn't really fade with time. It only grows if you let it. I love just as keenly today as the day I first held it in my hands. Marriage, two children, being widowed.” Here Fredrick couldn't help but think the extra clip of his heart really could not be good for it. “Even with an entire collection worth several million dollars. I never lost that first love. So please, take a moment to look at everything. Try and see the beauty in things that are dismissed by people who claim to know better. Fall in love with something.” She stepped down and for a moment Fredrick lost her in the press of the crowd. Then she was there beside him her hand sliding into his.

“Professor. It's good to see you again. You haven't changed a bit.”

He laughed at that. “You need glasses Kate. I'm sorry about your husband.”

She smiled and smacked his arm. “No you're not. You were sorry about Charlie. You aren't sorry about Nathan. I thought I was in love with you once you know.”

“I thought I loved you too.”

“I told myself it was just a passing silly fancy. Then no matter how many more times I fell in love, with Nate, with my children. I knew more and more it was honest and real.”

“I never forgot you. We walked a pretty thin line Kate. I tried so hard not to love you either.”

“We're older now, and wiser. You know if you had only shown me those paintings I would never have thought I was making it all up. I was beautiful in your eyes in a way I had never been beautiful before.”

“You were always beautiful to me. Once I got past those tiny little outfits you used to wear.” Somethings never would change he thought as she smiled biting into her bottom lip.

“I might still have a few. Is that windmill still in your office Professor?”

 

* * *

 

 

If anyone thought much about the older pair leaving the `festivities they didn't say anything. It was over an hour before Carol found her older brother. “You see where mom went?”

“I'm pretty sure she ran off to bugger that professor.” Freddie snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter.

“Oh thank god! She needs to get back out there. I'm telling you right now if my husband ever came out as gay to me I would not simply move his lover into the house and keep up appearances for fifteen years. How much Champagne have you had? You're going to make me drive aren't you.”

“No we'll call the car service. Besides she loved him. You can be mad about it all you want but they really loved each other. Besides now we have a new building in Mom's old college. That's another one to cross off the list of places your going to ever want to attend.”

Carol wasn't listening to Freddie anymore. Someone was playing a violin with such beauty and passion she followed the sound. It stirred something within her soul and when she found the man playing. Well he stirred something too. He put down the bow and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, The note said play me and it really is a beautiful violin.”

Carol couldn't help chewing on her lower lip. It was a nervous habit she had picked up from her mother. “No go right ahead! That's what it's for.”

“Thanks. I'm Professor Danvers. I teach music here. Are you one of our students?”

“I was thinking of attending.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million billion cool points to anyone who can spot the Marvel reference.


End file.
